Evening Star Newspaper, December 19, 1896, Page 20

= YULETIDE IN THE FAR NORTHWEST. BY ELLA HIGGINSON. (Copyright, 1896, ar. Yuh get them ca‘ves The Minerv fo ied “Minervy! up?” “No'm—not yet.” Weil, clesr out High time. your paw to be back from town. I'd gshamed. To go a-puttin’ things off s y’ a-curiin’ your hair to a crisp with a red-hot Iron! Primp? My-O! What's the use in primpin’ so? If Doug Hodges comes with your paw to spend Chrisimas ~ apt to find out your halr don’t curt If. Meres, Yuh didn't git a good curl on that one at the back o” your neck. Yuh might as well do't git wiile n’ it. I'd laff $f ¥ coutdn't carl cener ‘n that. an’ in’ a sme an’ spend Christmas! Take them tongs.” Minerva handed ker mother It's time be the curling iron wiin a sigh of mingled relicf and ex- haust She was a slim, sallow-complex- wlth large, irregular features. She had a Uttle, weak stoop which made her should me, were hea >wn, with gold ths. They were wholly ow r sickly harply. blades stand out lints in their of har- gave > mother, in t would have ssid, the back of your fet she arther, impossible this stick your Dor't lways © k 0 as her ne ‘1 stick out her = ‘ou do your offal to her on lish-bed, ck 0 an iirc on her. ninister, a hin « hh lown to s 1 jerk, the iron relea: back of took green peered out. Her . zround her narrowed Y announced, trium- pratt ain't, yuh F down ‘the t IMagonal, as boid as brass, wi vat so much as lookin’ around to see "f bedy him. He must be push ain't dead a year—an’ him with his p that way! I bet the ady. dinner avr to his hat a-goin him here, tomor- n’ he said he had an must of ast him back from his wife's n the Rialty in Seaith ether day, a-buyin’ a lavender dress! ‘I'd like to have a lavender dress,” spoke rva, suddenty, with a Ettle quaver. vender—d. Fer pity’s sake! Ww yuh want of lavender dres: you? why not se: why not, aigh? W'y, youd 1 le-leather.” was a silence. Another little bol nestled beside the fi on Miner- 2 atly she said (and there $ r thin voice as of ars), | know. Shi Let nly in comfe x, Minervy to yuh yuh in the way o’ look up, It's high time. r n’ your hair! Lily Pelle out of the room and e coughed as she we was on one of the sound. The boats blue arm w It was a be ESE VCI CIES. Her | neck A WOE WONG selselse)ise lure Co.) role tines leaning posture ane ter er tec da fich glow turned She put up the bars with trembling } and hastened home; ittle aammess were pounding away like mad in her temples. It was a full hour before the boat glided in to the Runt pler—which had been most asmay, and wonderfully fashioned out of es. Minerva was assis CORRES assisting in the preparation “Has he come with your pa?" asked her mother, entering the kitchen suddenly: for these two there was only one “he” on earth. “I do’ know,” said Mi fumbling metre aprinrenas “I ain't looked.” . “Yuh ain't looked, aigh? It's a pity yuh ain't looked! Why, what ails yah? Yuh go Rround as if yuh was a-steppin’ on eggs. } What makes yuh ac’ the dunce so? It ain't eee time he's come, by a jugful. Goose- 3 “D'yuh want this here apple butter for supper, ma?” Yes, I want that apple butter for sup- per—if he’s come. Why don’t choo look out an’ see if he’s come?” can't,’ said poor Minerva, faintly. so afraid he ain't come. You look, said Mrs. Bunt, de- If broadly before the “I reckon yuh'li have the creepin’ ome on an’ stay on till he does 1 he's come. He's all fixed up. lookin’ ‘n ever. There ain't a young man on the sound got a better pair o” legs 'n inis'n,”” she added, with pride. “It's a wonder Lily Belle McNamara ain't set her cap at him, seein's he's been ‘hin’ school so clost to her pa's. Not it ‘u’d do her any good. He never'd throw off on yuh, it all up of ourselves dare—it he wanted Lity Be with a uily Belle le anything else,” quick, unexpected THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 19, 1896—zs VAGES. “Hunh. Most time yuh was a-settlin’ down, ain't it?” Young Hodges swalloweit before he spoke. He was very pale. He took up the poke and commenced stirring the red roals. “T expect so.” “Yuh've been engaged to Minervy now elose onto four year.” There , why don’t yuh settle down?” Per- spiration began to bead upon his brow. He realized that the awful ordeal, the mere anticipation of which has ,given sleepless nights to more than one young man, was =. im. He was being asked his “inten- jon: “I do’ Know,” he said, hi jassly. “I do’ know just why I don’t, Mis Bane’ “Well, yuh’d best think about it. Why don’t yuh live on your ranch instid o’ gad- Gin’ to the other side o” the Island to teach school? Yuh'd make more. “Maybe I would. “May bees don't fly *n December. How’s Lily Belle McNamara?’ “She's well.” He punched the fire till the sparks sput- tered up the chimney in a scarlet cloud. “Hunk.” “She—she—shé's a-comin’ over here to> eee after his mother | morrow.” “Over where?” “Over here. ere? Here? To our house?” ‘Ye—es'm."” “What's she comin’ here for?” “To spend Christmas, I s’pose.” “People don’t go places to spend Christ- ™as without an invite.” There was an awful sternness in Mrs. Bunt’s voice. “Well, I—I give her an invite.” “Yuh did! Yuh ast her to come here to spend Christmas? What made yuh?” a thought maybe’ you'd like to have ‘Yuh thought maybe I'd like to have her, hunh?” Mrs. Bunt’s tone was withering. “Well, when I want anybody, I've got enough gum'tion to ask ‘em of myself. 1 ain't anybody’s skim-milk—an’ my girl ain't, neither.” The door was opened hesitatingly and Minerva entered. “I guess I'm all through, ma.” “Well,” Mrs. Bunt got up slowly. “Go back an’ put a stick 0” wood in the stove. As the door closed she fronted the miser- able-faced young man again. “Seein’s yuh can’t screw up courage to set the day, Doug,” she said, with che ful affability, ‘I'd help yuh out. We'll call it the first day o° May; an’ if yuh don't walk up to the church with Minervy on that day, I'll take that big ranch o’ your'n for breach 0’ promise.”” Minerva came fn again, and Mr: retired with a parting injunction, set up later’n 12, yuh gooseheads, you Miss Lily Belle McNamara arrived on the noon boat. Young Hodges went down to meet her. Minerva and her mother stood at the window watching them climb the hill. SHE SANK DOWN UPON A ROCK AND TURNED HER FACE DOWN THE ARM “Yuh needn't to explode so. They're right here ‘t the house. All is,’ she added, with a stern iook as she went to the door, “I sh'u'd jest like to see him try to throw eff on yuh. I'd show him pretty quick | that he c'u'dn't come it." She opened the [ door. “Land o' Love an’ Goshen! Yuh come, did yuh? It's a cure for sore eyes yuh, Doug Hodges. Come right mind your feet. Whose trunk come in on the boat with yuh? whose trunk was that come In on with yuh? Yuh gone deef?” ? 1 do’ know.” awaitin® Minerva came forward, scarlet-faced, and shook hands limply. Her hand was like a i's claw : young man’s face reflected the scar- let of hers. “Well, Minerv he said, “you gettin’ " said Minerva, with quivering politenes: 2 1 He sat own and slid his chair to the win- dow with a squeak. “It's a-goin’ to be a nice Chr ee It is so. < ‘mer'n usual.”” —it is so.” There was a beautiful happiness now on Minerva’s face, which had been so pale and anxious about the time the boat landed; but it a happiness that had something pathetic in it. The young man did not seem to be over- burdened with joy. He looked embarrassed and ill at ease. His weak blue eyes shifted aw from Mrs. Bunt's steady, asking look. nally she said, dryly, as she took a sip the boiling gravy to test its seasoning— What's the matter of yuh, Doug? He gave a jump. “Matter? Nothin’. Why?” Yuh look so! Been teachin’ jamara’s, ain't choo Tne red came back to his face. be There wax a silence. Minerva was step- ping around spryiy. Now and then she »ked at him with shining eyes. The little ad the back of your neck out sos 1 cam git the tongs around this lock. ing urves of the boats themseiv they came throbbing up the narrow avenu floored with bk and c¢ blue and walled with sor d there rich fruit a sloped down to the water fro: torest background. re gree t, althov ns hawl ¢ her head to ris from the r the salt, wind, ran down the path to’ the There had been no nd the young brakes were bravely putting up their curved heads, pushing the moist earth inio little ccnes eround them. The willows were | neing out their silver tassels; the wild eglantine was in leaf. In damp places the skunk cabbage had spread anew its broad Ieav. from whose velvet depths would reach beautiful golden hands Me ye ly torches in their hollowed palms. sunset, and ull che little sa ouds were “Jumping ropes” which were being turned slowly by Invisible hands across the west. any Minerva stooped by a sheltered Lank end @ a handful of le pale things,” she sala. “They're come too early; the frost orthe cold rait:'ll kill ‘em sure.” She pinned them on her flat breast and went on. She let down the bars and the calves came leaping through from the p: ture, She stood for a few moments looking «own the blue arm with a soft light In her s. Then a faint trail of smoke drified wily imto view. She started from ber rls were bobbing coquettishly on the .k of her neck and on her brow. The re- of her hair was twisted into a ne were a dull green, badly with funny bows of ribbon Once the young man gave her a long, searching !9ok; then, without the slighte of countenance, he turned his eyes toward the boat just draw- ing away from the pier. Mrs. nt poured the gravy into a bowl, scraping the pan dexterously with a tin on, Yuh knew Lily Belle?” ng fellow cleared his throat. ‘7m. ‘Supper's all j pat Why don't don’t see where Minervy, is it still on the worf?” Minerva ecraned her long neck. Yes'm.”” | sewed ever it. ready. Set up. Pa! Oh, cheo come to supper? 1 that trunk’s a-goin’ to. a-settin’ down there Mrs. Bunt sighed helplessly. “It beat: me. Well, set up before everyihing g cold. Oh, my 1 I bet it's the Widow Peters’ noo outfit! It just struck me all of a sudden “I hear y that her ’n the mint.- 2-B0 git married,” said Mr. After supper Mr. Bunt went out to the arn to “fodder” the cattle. The guest rose to accompany him, but Mrs. Bunt pointed with a large, crooked finger to the sitting rocm. “You go in an’ set down. (il come in an’ talk to yuh while Minervy reds up the dishes.” He went in with an unwilling air and sat jdown by the big fireplace. Mrs. Bunt closed the door and pulled her chair up close to him. ‘There was a clatter of dishes. Minerva lifted up her weak, cracked voice and com- enced to sing: 2st night there were four Marys, Tonight there'll be but three, There was Mary Seaton and Mary Beaton, And Mary Carmichael—and me! “I wish she w’u'dn't sing that mournful thing so,” said her mother. “It makes somethin’ come up in my win’pipe. Sho seems to lean to mournful s grave- yardy, I call’em. She's turrable happy be- cause yuh come to stay Christmas, Doug.” He stirred uneasily. “That so?! “Yes, it's 60, You're the only thing she’s ever had to be happy over. Been stuck here on this island ever sence she was knee high to a grasshopper. If any! happened to you, I guess it ‘u’d kill her— there ain't much to her, with that cough vb’ her’n. How cld be yuh now?” “Twenty-five,” “She's got a noo hat,” announced Mrs. Bunt, gritmly. “It's offul pretty; got purple grapes on They're the latest style. She must of got it in Seattle.” “Well, I wish yuh held your head up the way she does!” The glow went out cf Minerva’s face. “She's got on a noo dress, too. I'll be switched if it ain't got vel panels up the sides! There—lookee! what straight, up an’ down back she’s got—no wonder she looks stylish.” She turned and gave a dissatisfied look at Mincrva’s shoulders. ‘Why can’t choo hold yourself She wea-s her dress- “She's got pretty ankles,” said poor Mi- nerva, with a sigh that had no malice. There was sufficient woman in her to envy the ankles for more than the straight, up and down back. She went to the door slowly. “That choo, Lily Beli she said, with a struggle to be cordial. “I’m reel glad yuh come. Why, Doug, you're offul red in the face—I never see you so red before.” “It’s hot work climbin’ the hill,” said her mother, drily. sg “It is so,"~said Lily Belle, gaily. “I'm ready to drop—so I guess I will.” She sunk, laughing, upon a chair. “My, I for- got to say ‘Merry Christmas! She sat in a beautiful glow of health and happin and Doug Hodges stood looking dowr upon her, gloating over her beauty. As he so stood, Minerva’s eyes went to his face and dwelt there—at first with gentlest love, only; but later, with some- thing else that sent the blood away from her plain face. Well, don’t set in the kitchin, said Mrs. Bunt. “There's a fire 'n the settin’ room. Step right in.” Lily Bell cast a glance at Minerva’s old low-backed organ as she passed. “Oh, Minervy, con you play the ‘Prize Banner Quickstep?" : 1 wish I c'u'd.” ‘Well, I can—I've just learned i Minervy can play ‘Angel Voices in the announced Mrs. Bunt, proud as “It's lots harder’n ‘The Prize full of little grace notes. Yuh can’t play it, can yuh?" “Oh, yes,” sald Lily Bell, pleasantly; “I could play it three year ago.” She sat down at the organ and com- menced to play something light and merry. She played with spirit and grace, making the cld instrument turn out jigs and horn- pipes far neneath its dignity. Doug Hodges stood with his arms folded, observing her intently. Minerva stood with her back to the window; her eyes never moved from his face. She was very pale. She breathed slowly and noiselessly; her lips were part- ed. Mrs. Bunt watched all three, im- partially. Suddenly Minerva commenced coughing. Deug Hodges gave her a frowning look—one that asked, with the impatience of a ten- years’ husband, if she couldn’t wait till the “Rochester Scottische” was finished. She put her hand on her chest, and, still cough- ing, slipped out of the room. Her mother gloomed after her for a mo- ment; then she arose and followed her. The Christmas dinner was eaten solemnly at 3 o'clock. There was a thick soup, made of canned oysters, with lttle rings of but- ter floating on top; there were two big Tcasted chickens with sage dressing; a dcme of mashed potatoes with a pool of melted butter in its sunken crater; stewed pumpkin, stewed corn, pickled peacaes and beans, brown gravy, mince ple and floating island and crabapple jelly—all trembling fee glowing upon the table at the same time. Minerva served her guests faithfully, but she ate little herself. When the dishes had been washed and the floor swept, Mrs. Bunt stood the broom up stiffly behind the kitchan door, while Minerva hung the dishpan out on the porch age stretched the dishcloth smoothly over t. Night, any peacock. It’ Banner.” ‘Now, Lily Belle,” said Mrs. Bunt, firmly, pulling down her sleeves, “we'll go in the settin’ room; Doug an’ Minervy's a-goin’ to take a walk.” “I'd just as soon go along with ‘em, Mis’ Bunt.” “Well, I guess they'd Itke to be alone a leetle while—on Christmas, too. ve'd just as soon have her along of us,” spoke up the young man, boldly, with ° Well, she h “Well, she'll set here with me. That's settled. Yuh'n Minervy go on now. Ya iat if I'd have anybody tag me an’ my girl around all day, if I was a y« man,’ “Why, the idee!” fluttered Belle. “Well, I w'u'd. I'd laff.” She passed near eee Cakes day's Ce set,” she said, in a ster: per. “Has he told yuh? It’ Seer Ee uw pana me ie * ra eyes glowed out of her arbite face, “Who set it?” “T did.” The sunset was drawing its long beauti- ful ribbons out of the beryl skies and cotl- ing them so low in the west in splendid oops of color. A strong wind was blowing up the arm: the waves pounded and broke upon the rocks. Minerva walked silently by her lover's side. Once she shivered and drew her cape closer about her chest. Several times she coughed. Ss “You've got a cold, ain't choo?” caid the young man, at last, indifferently. “No, only a cough. He looked at her. “You've got thinner 'n when I was heré last. “It's been six rhonths.” Her voice sound- ed hollow. There was a drawn look about her mouth. R= “It has? So long? Why, it didn’t seem more'n a month.” He began to walk more slowly, and ‘she fell into his pace unconsciously, ke an obedient dog. “It seems like ‘six: years to me.” The words ought to have shaken his ‘soul—there was such a heartbreak in them. “It ali depends on the way you spend your time, I s'pose,” he said. A smtle came upon his mouth: his eyes smiled too—as in memory of something sweet. The girl saw. Her breath came with a sound that was almost a sob. She stopped suddenly and faced him. All her passion, all her heartbreak, :all her despair. broke loose In that second and shook her so that she could not speak. But her eves Spoke. Presently she got control, too, of her voice —boor, shaken thing that it was. ‘Why don't yuh speak up?” she said, flercely. “Why don't yuh tell me?” “Why don’t J tell yuh what?” He stared at her stupidly, the smile slowly leaving mee “That you're tired o’—o’ bein’ engaged to me.” The words must have hurt. She pressed both hands hard upon her throat and coughed. ‘Why don’t yuh tell me that yuh want her.” | He had the manhood to quail—and to in- sult her by no lie. But before he could speak her passion had burned itself out. Her face worked strongly and tears leaped to her eyes, stinging. “Oh, Doug, Doug,” she said, gen- uy; “I w'u'dn’t of had yuh for long any- how. Then yuh c’u'd of had her, an’ I'd of been happy a little while first. It w'u'do’t of been more’n a year—an’ she’s so well an’ pretty, she c'u'd of waited. But it’s all right. Yuh go an’ have her, an don’t worry about me. I guess the worst part of it's over now. One thing, dyin’ won't be ha’f so hard.” She sank down upon a rock and turned her face down the arm—not blue now, but dull gray, [ke the sky from which all color was gone. “Yuh go on in an’ tell her. I guess I'll stay out here a while.” He stood still. —that is—your ma—” !" she said, quickly. across her face. “I forgot her. Oh, poor mat!” She arose and stood irresolute. Then she said, slowly—‘It'll go in with yuh. We won't let her Know till you’n Lily Belle are A quiver went gone. Then I'll tell her myself.”” “She—she—" “Tvl be all right,” she assured him, patiently. “She don’t cross me in anything ~since I got to coughin’ so. He turned back then, with his head up and a glow on his face—the happiest coward that ever breathed God’s air. She went swaying along beside him. The wind tore her cape from her chest. She coughed of- ten. Her face was as bleak as the sea; but her soul shone like a steadfast star out of her beautiful eycs. (The End.) A TOMATO HEART. n Afflicted: Har Disease From the Cincinnati Enquirer. Epicures especially and the pub.te in ren- eral should be warned by the fate of Paul D. Warner, who was yesterday discharged frcm the City Hospital, not because he was entirely cured, but because, afflicted with two diseases, he decided to seek a different climate, beneficial to the more fatal of the two. When admitted to the institution several months ago Warner, while showing symptoms of consumption, was also suffer- ing from a peculiar heart affliction, which, after repeated examinations by the attend- ing physicians, was pronounced to be ly- copersicum cardiopathia, or tomato heart. Curious as it may seem, the man’s debili- tated condition and the weakness of that important orgam-was-due to the patient's love for that luscions vegetable, which he ate at every meal. Jt was not unttl ‘the beginning of the-civl-war that the accept- ance of the tomato as an edible became general, and Europe, up to the present time, has not given ita welcome. Analysists have placed it among the vegetables con- sisting of over 8 per cent water, and its fluid element has been found to consist of an acid called by some acidum lycopersi- cum, and by others as acetic and mailic in ccmbination. Scientists have long ago dis- covered, however, that to some persons the tcmato is a veritable poison. In some cases the symptoms develop immediately and are alarming, and in others the results are cumulative. In the latter, as in the case of Warner, an abnormal hypersensitiveness of the heart and circulatory apparatus is dis- covered. First, a simple heart irritability, with a latent inflammation, is observed, then an inflammation of the inner wall, pecially about the oartic roots and valves. The heart passes out of the condi- ticn of equilibrium into a habit of irregu- larity and inequality of rhythm and force. Difficult breathing ‘supervenes and limits the capacity of exertion. When first admitted, Warner exhibited all the symptoms of acute poisoning, and for a while his case baffied the skill of the attending physicians. Only when his in- ordinate fondness for the fruit was dis- cevered was a diagnosis made possible. He suffered pain and gastric uneasiness, suc- ceeded by choking, belchings and heartburn and vomiting. Then came an arrest of the vital activity within the chest, and the poor patient suffered as much mentally as physi- cally, a peculiar action of the disease being that it impresses itself upon the mind, cre- ating depression and gloomy premonitions. Cold sweats appeared upon his forehead, being produced by heart fright. Head- aches and a tension about the temples be- came manifest, accompanied by languor. At times also rner’s speech became im- peded, and he found it difficult to articulate, followed by an incoherence of thought, sev- eral ideas seeming to seek expression at the same time. He also experienced numb- ness of the fingers and tongue, and general, perversion of the senses. During Warner's ay at the hospital he was treated freely with acetanilid and alcohol in equal pro- portions, and while improving under this treatment he was by no means cured when he was discharged. This was only done, however, at the earnest solicitation of the patient himself, as he was afflicted with consumption, as before stated, and desired to go to a different climate for relief from this disease, the more dangerous of the two. A Cincinn *h a Peca- Breaking the News Gently. From the Chicago Post. The doctor came into the room rubbing his hands and smiling. “Everything all right?” aske@ the man who was anxiously waiting for him. “Couldn't be better,” returned the doctor. “Good,” said the mati W:th a sigh of re- Hef. Then, when he saw that the doctor intended to say’ nothing more, he asked, with some hesitation: “Er-ah—boy or girl?” ~ ‘The doctor stopped rubbing his hands and looked a trifle uneasy, as if the task be- fore him were nat just to his liking. _ “Well,” he sai¢ at last, “you'll need a tandem whee! for it.” *wWhen will women take an interest in pelitics, professor?” ‘When it becomes a fad.""—Life. otf TRANS - ASIATIC LINE | OES the eS acup ent eiseen never i Progress in the Construction of the Great Siberian Railway. Sees ae STRATEGIC AND COMMERCIAL SS ae Railroad Between St. Petersburg and Yenesei Nearly Completed. | ROAD IN Written for The Evening Star. At the time of my recent visit to Siberia (August, 1896) the Trans-Siberian railway was open to general traffic as far as the Ob river, a distance ot S miles from { Cheliabinsk, the terminus of the European railway system at the eastern base of the Urals, and 386 miles beyond the Siberian city of Omsk. The formai opening of the division between the Ob river and Krasuoyarsk, which Prince Hillkoff in- forms me will take place at the end of the present year, will at last es- tablish a complete rail communication of about 3,000 miles between St. Petersburg and the greatest of the Siberian waterways —the Yenesei river. Of the three large bridges which were to be constructed along the line up to this point, the one across the Irtish has already been built and in use for over a year, while those across the Ob it- self and its eastern branches are expected to be completed by the end of 1897. The building of the great bridge across the Yenesei, the largest along the line. was formally commenced September 1 of the present year. Over the steppe and undulating country which lies between the Urals and the Yene- sel river the construction of the Trans-Si- berian railway has been comparatively e: and inexpensive (I am informed about $15,-j 000 per mile); but the mountainous regions from Krasuoyarsk to Irkutsk, and from Lake Baikal to the Amoor river, where separate sections of the line are now in the course of construction, require much | more engineering skill and pecuniary out- | lay. It ts exnected that the former section | between Krasuoyarsk and Irkutsk, the | east Siberian capital, will be completed by the end of 1897. Commercial Development. I cannot share in the general opinion that | the Trans-Siberian railway was designed chiefly for strategical purposes. It is quite true that the completion of this trans- continental highway will enable Russia at very short notice to fill up the weak gaps along her sparsely settled Chinese flank, and at the same time to open up an avenue for the ready transport of troops to the Pacific littoral, thereby greatly augment- ing her influence in eastern waters. Never- theless the commercial development of Si- berla, which, with every encouragement from the government, is following rapidl in the wake of this opening enterpri- seems tome to have been the paramount | object in the minds of its originators. The emperor himself, who is president of the board of directors for the Trans-Si- | berlan railway, is taking the liveliest per- sonal interest in the matter of Siberian im- migration. This is one of the first uses to which the railway is being put, and in con- sequence over 400,000 immigrants were transported last year at the nominal rate of one mill per mile. The governors of the various provinces have been instructed to defer other duties in order to attend to the distribution of free land and timber, prom- ised to the immigrants, many of whom have been obliged to return to European Russia through the inability of the officials to cope in time with the overwhelming tide of applications. New towns are springing up all along the line, and the populations of the old ones rapidly increasing. especially in the trad ing quarters. Novo Nicholaevsk, whi now lies at the junction of the Trans. berian railway and the Ob river system, one of the most advantageous commercial pesitions along the route, has sprung up, like a mushroom, in the very heart of the wilderness, and today it is impossible to buy a piece of land there within one mile radius of the station house. Facilitating Intercourse. ‘The teeming valleys of the southern Ob and Yeresel rivers are already being tapped to supply the untilled steppe lands of west- ern Siberia on the one hand and the until- lable mountainous districts of eastern Si- beria on the other, thus giving full play to the natural laws of compensation. Not five years ago, during the bread famine In edst- ern Siberia, when wheat in Irkutsk was selling for $1.50 per pound, it could be bought in Bernaul, in the Ob valley, for about eight cents. To correct such internal defects as this, as well as develop the la- tent resources of the country, is, in my opinion, the chief purpose of the Trans-Si- berian railway. Like the Trans-Caspian line to Samar- cand, the Trans-Siberian railway was de- e'ded upon with very little preliminary dis- cussion or investigation. Alexander IIIT simply wrote: “Let there be a line” and a line there is, every day more rapidly ap- proaching to completion. There is hardly a doubt that the impulse to construct the Trans-Siberian line was largely derived from the successful completion of the Can- adian Pacific railway, and its subsequent aevelopment of the British North Ameri: can possessions; for in many respects Si- beria is to Russia what Canada is to Eng- land—a great landed heritage, full of mag- nificent resources, only waiting to be de- veloped. + The present development of Russian rail- way enterprise is one of the most sixnifi- cant features of the day, and is a direct outcome of the French rapprochment. French loans are now providing the sinews of war for a recrudescence of Russian ac- tivity in Asia, aimed, of course, at Eng- land’s commercial prospects in the east. The progress of the Trans-Siberian ratl- way, however, is the point that excites chief interest, especially as the marked attention paid to Li Hung Chang during his recent visit to St. Petersburg clearly demonstrates thet tne route will lie via the open country and easy gradients. whica Manchuria can boast. Change of Plan. The bistory of the development of the Trans-Siberian railway is in itself an ad- mirable example of the good luck that seems never to tire of favoring Russia in all her eastern projects. When ‘the pre- liminary details of this great scheme were dreamed thut the fortunes of war, which were to cost his country nothing, wou!d Place the most influential Chinese sta man in its power, increased factlities belt, thus given for the opening up of the shi ést posstble main route between Europe between St. the Pacific, Pekin. The original plan for railway was to follow th of the Amoor and its U the southern-most cific to meet the sect it to St. Vetershurg Siberian Sy which Ru: use of the open count Peters»urg a Trans-Siberi: e circuitous valle Issurri affluen port— 10 "Tadi- vostock, and with this object in view the Ussurri section as far as Khabarvoka has already been vonstructed inward from the ion butlding ward from LakeBaikal; but now all | changed. It is establistel as an secret that acrangements were made through Fi Hung Chang during his recent a of Manchuria instead of ihe mountainous region of the Amoor. From Nercainsk the propcsed terminus of the Trans-Baikal section, at the headwaters the Amoor river, the ‘ine will tura southeastward along the vatley of the sung the Manchurian capital, K is ostens proposed to st to Valdivosteck. For the Futare. It is generally underst When the vantage point capital has been reache¢ the apprehension or jea! ers, no ice-bound termin: vostuck would afford, will then be select pad, howev« of the M ls Jousy of t us, such as Vladi- but a suitable port on the Gulf of Pechilli. I know, in fi ance that Russian private railway from K connect the Trans-s with the only raflway in ing northward from Tientsi Subsequently prove t this “purely private any time be incorporat Siberian system. It perspicacity to surmise the ultimate intention. et, frem personal acqua’ surveys being made with a view of proj berian requires are already ng a irin southward to through line China now operu- Should it Russia's advantage enterprise could at the Trans- no special that this is really ed in At first Port Arthur was spoken of as ihe most hkely spot to be favored as the P. chili terminus of tue T; way, but the latest move rather points rans-Siberian rail- to the uliimate selection of Chifu, which, 3s is well known, possesses many and otherwise. ill prove that to reach attractions, climatic giance at the ma: Chifu. the rail eireuitcus sweep, will follow: aluable A have to make a ing in great part the route of the present Chinese railway, ¥ | and taking in Peking and Tientsin on its Way. It is not difficult to foresee what this will mean. Sooner or later the line will tap practically the whole of the everland trade cf the Chinese empire and ¢nermousiy con- solidate Russian influence to the exclusion of the others on the Pacific “littoral. According to a remarkable art de recent- ly published in the inspired columns cf | tke Novoe Vremya, the martial Eden that is to fulfill all the strategical qualities that Russia demands is the unvecup.ed port cf Mokpo, situated on the shor. low s » hear the mouth of the ne Yan Y San- of Kang, a river of large volume in latiiuie 34 degrees 47 minutes, THOMAS G. ALLEN, Jr. —s0e In Chicago—Dangers From the Cate: bt ord. st and Present “Say, these old settlers make me tired.” Smiley Williams looked it “What's the matter too. now asked his chum, with a sigh of resignation. “Oh, it ships of the pioneers, w: ‘blazing the path for c the blazes did they Go? this tommy rot about the hard- ho are pictured as rilization.” I face more. dan- gers every day in Chicago than any of those long-tlegged old chumps who used born in the “30s.” Bolton geve a long, low whistle. bracing his feet against tor, he lerned back and ‘What a whopper.” “It is the gospel truth, doggedly. “Of course, you are aw dian bullets, bears, snuk: returned ton, ironic ens would musket in the pigeon-toed Indian? awi from such hands It simply insist every day whole garrison in those week. ‘Away back in the "3% born was considered wouldn't think of trying So just long inside they were safe. too, for there wasn't an for the most part. “You My: udge,”” contemptuous! be afraid of scenes that creepy up and down the spinal column. that I risk that I go down stronger free lunch cheeses of today. as those fellows sta: talk about Indians, | to wade in the marshes around Fort Dear- | Then, the steam radia. sighed: asserted Smiley, yfully afraid of In- bites and such,” rho the dick- n old fiiat-lock of a squint-eyed, is only as we get we grow days braved in a Fl tell you just how it is. s old Fort Dear- than most to batter it down, a They stayed there, nything else to do but you must remember that an Indian ‘couldn't get in a good position to plug getting more or less int plugged himself, and I tell you an Indian | took precious good care of his always hide. He always used his health and he knew enough to before he got hoarse—w! a whole lot of politicians know. a settler without © a position to be the warwhoop for stop hich is more than “As to wild animals, they never attacked a man who wasn’t huntii ing "em; you might as well say that I'm in danger of being shot by Gen. Weyler, war in Cuba. because there's a ‘0, this talk about our forefathers who went ahead and prepared the wilderness for us makes me sick. Suppose some old What | 1 more dangers | town than a An Indian | chump had got an Indian builet in him? He had neighbors who would nurse hin, sit up with his corpse all night and bury him tenderly next day. Suppose you or t Were to run into a live wire i town? Who would monk half minute without p “That's so,” mused Bolton. - Of course it’s so! y Now, just look at the dangers which 1 every day There's ny miles in a purban tra which mai thirty miles an hour between some stations, and then there's nine miles back at night, over frogs, crossings, swite and all the wilderness of iron rails and ties. One open switch might get me an aude with the coroner before 1 could say Jack Robinson “Just as I walk out of the front entranc to the station I cross under two overhesd trolley wires, and in front of both cabic and trolley cars, I get onto the opposit sidewalk and have to walk under the wall of a new building, on top of which care- less masons are twirling bricks, any on j of which might bust my upper crust 1 croas two cable car tracks, poss another new building with loose bricks on top, and dive between trucks and cabs to the office. I rid stories up in an elevator whic | tw ady, and there | am work ers which md a great battery y blow me to kingdom come at any minute. All this, too, under t | most favorable circumstances and out naming a host of other possibill r instance, I p four saloons where \pizen mean whisky is sold. How do t know that some drunken fool won't stag- ger out with a revolver ch hand, raking the street with bulle “Suppose two fellows get to fighting and one of them pulls his gun, how do I know I won't be plugged? “Suppose a policeman chooses to shoot ickpocket who is running in my «i on? Suppose & horse rens away and catches me on a crossing? Suppose a sign blows off the third-story front of some building just as I get under it? “Look how it was here in the great rail- | road strike. Look how it is every Fourth of July, with bullets and rockets and can- non firecrackers en all sides. And just think how much [ am menaced every night py thugs, foctpads, burglars and the lo: | list of plug-uglies of every de: prion. | which enable the police to draw sa Smiley had paused so plainly for a reply that Bolton gave in. “Ye he assented, guarcedily. But that isn't all.” chuckled Smiley, fully Good heavens,” exclaimed Bolton, “are you working a life or accident insurance scheme on me?” You know I'm not.” “Well, go on,” resignedly. “What I was going to say.” said Smiley. impressively, that Chicago drinking water has killed more people than wore Iped in all of the Mississippi vai the New “I'm tired of ‘running around’ with you,” said the bicyele. “The first thing you do when you take me out is ‘pump’ me, and when you've Gone that to your satisfactio yeu don't do a thing but ‘jump’ on me. Now, I don’t mind your ‘setting’ on me at every opportunity, but you fly off the ‘handle’ every time I make a bad “break,” and if I lose my “bearings,” off you are | likely to go again. There ix tomething © a ‘erank’ about me, I admit, but you shou not charge me with be! attied’ simply | Lecause L am a little ‘loose in the he | and speak of me as a ‘rat trap.’ I: before, and you simply stroked | of all this my side with a match ana made light of it | But I Gon’t intend that you shall “blow me vp’ again. Of the two, much the | heavier,” but I am the “faster,” and some day when I see the ‘coast’ clear I will try | to ‘get away” from you. Were it not for me y would not hold your *head’ vp so ‘high, anyway, so you are not the fellow to be ‘scorching’ me. Waile I have the true ‘ring’ about me and am made of the right sort of ‘metal ~ — ~ it Was Patt. From London Truth. A lady passenger in a Great Western train was much disturbed in her attempts at a nop by some one singing in the next compartment, so she asked the guard to interfere. That official did so, aryl laughed at for his pains, and the singi went on. At the next station the lady nt for the station master, and requested lim tc succeed where the guard had fail- ed. The station master went to the next compartment, and immeciately rned Lo | apologize. “I am very sorr: lam,” he | said, “but 1 really cannot ask your neig is Mn Patti.” bor to stop singing. She . tee From Her Standpoint. | From Life | Lad; But it geems to me you ask very | high wages, when you acknowledge that | you haven't had much experi 3 Bridget—“Shure, marm, at harder for me when I don’t know how pases ae ce c tious. From Life. Clara—‘“He says that you have been twice as nice as you usually are.” Maude—“Yes. I was afraid he would try* to break off the engagement before Chris\- mas.” eletendentetecetetetec teint HUNT JANOS, The World’s Best Natural Aperient Water. 25 Years’ Success in U. S. Highest Reputation all Over the World. CAUTION: None genuine without the signature of the firm “Andreas Saxlehner,” 008,17, no7,21, On the Label.